Dunmore East Harbour & Village
From The 1940s to the 1960s

For generations, the old toilet on the quay stood as a stalwart convenience overlooking Dunmore's busy harbour. Its humble presence had served the community faithfully, providing relief to day-trippers and locals alike. However, as the harbour expanded and the number of visitors increased, the limitations of this miniature convenience became painfully apparent.

The ever-lengthening queues on the Coast Road during summer days had become a source of frustration for the people of Coxtown. Deliberation and consternation filled the air as discussions ensued about the fate of this beloved yet inadequate fixture; undoubtedly a certain amount of constipation added urgency to the decision-making process.

In early 1963, on a quiet Monday morning before the sun had even fully risen, the decisive moment arrived. The explosives division of the Board of Works, laden with backpacks filled with dynamite, descended upon the old toilet with precision and purpose. With a deafening explosion, they reduced the quaint structure to nothing more than a pile of rubble and fond memories.

Flushed faces lined the dockside as the realisation sank in: the familiar convenience was no more. The trek up the road to Fisherman’s Hall now lay ahead for those seeking relief, a journey that symbolised the inexorable march of progress.

Though bittersweet, the removal of the old toilet marked a pivotal moment in Dunmore's history. It served as a poignant reminder that change is inevitable, and that even cherished landmarks must yield to the demands of progress. As the dust settled and the echoes of the explosion faded, Dunmore's harbour stood looless, its landscape forever altered in the name of modernisation.

This one was taken in 1968. As soon as they had a bit of a platform in place, someone came along and stacked a load of barrels on it. Men can be seen topping up the barrels with herring if you zoom in, a job only the toughest of the tough could ever do. 

Gerry O'Regan remembers: "The crane was a 'Ruston Bucyrus 54RB'. I remember the day it arrived in Dunmore to join the other two Rustons that were already there. It was a fair-sized machine and came off a low loader just below where The Bay Cafe is now. There were two other cranes/draglines on the job: a 43RB and a 19RB. The drivers of the cranes were my own Aulfella, Paddy 'The Baron' O'Regan, Paddy Ayton, Kieran Crossan, and Sean Kearns. All RIP now. I don't know who would have been driving it on that day."

A photo taken in 1968 showing the boats all tied up.

Another photo taken in 1968 showing the lighthouse getting ready to flash its beacon. 

The view from behind the high wall.

A photo taken in the mid-1960s of Ernie Rutter helping Johnny Butler either in or out of the water. I think the other man was the foreman on the Board of Works who went by the name of Hughie.

The number of cars outside Lawlor’s Hotel in this colourised photo is remarkable. One might be tempted to think they’ve gathered to watch something thrilling on a television inside, but that couldn’t be it; everyone knows Lawlor’s wasn’t the first bar in Dunmore to have a TV. In fact, the bar was usually busy on Sunday afternoons whenever there was a Waterford away match. Everyone would gather around the big radio, cheering as loudly as those in attendance at the match itself, maybe even louder, as they had the benefit of drinks at hand.

Looking closer, it seems to be a bright, sunny day, likely in the late 1940s. The sheer number of people leaning against the Storm Wall gives it away as summertime. No one would dare stand there in the winter, not with the waves threatening to sweep them out to sea. The village is buzzing with life, with something happening in every corner.

I notice that there’s a structure over on Councillors Strand, possibly a seaside bar or maybe even an ice cream shop, reflective of the relaxed atmosphere of those post-war years. If this had been the early 1940s, we’d have seen a far different scene: soldiers marching up and down the hill, and maybe even a tank or two. But on this day, it’s clear the war is over, and Dunmore is soaking up the peace and sunshine, with the Lower Village at the heart of it all.

A photo taken in 1968 during the harbour development years.

This photo was taken in 1968 as well, probably in the summer months.

The Lower Village may have been bleak and cold in the 1960s, but at least television had arrived.

I used to live in the house across the road from where the bus is stopped in this photo. It felt like we had a car when Jimmy, the driver, parked there. We could go out the door, get on the bus and in about an hour we'd be in town, provided the bus didn't break down on the way.

This photo captures a familiar scene and looks like it may have been taken in the 1950s. Motorcars had arrived by this time and were already parking in an unconventional manner, facing in the wrong direction for the side of the road they were parked on. 

Beneath the tree, the wall has been transformed into an all-weather seating area, with shelter from both sun and rain under the branches. For those seeking a sunnier spot, there's ample space available as well.

Three individuals, two men and a young lady, engage in conversation on the street, their hands resting behind their backs. I suppose without phones they had nothing to fiddle with.

Adorning the wall of the Fisherman’s Hall are two towels and a pair of swimming trunks, likely left there by swimmers seeking to dry them off after a visit to Stoney Cove.

The absence of empty chip bags on the street, from Wolfe Dooley’s chip shop, suggests that the litter pickers were diligent in their work that morning. Altogether, these elements contribute to a picture-perfect summer’s day in Dunmore East.

In this photograph, taken at the end of July 1949, people can be seen soaking up the summer sun. Despite the continued use of ration books, one thing that wasn't in short supply was sunshine. The summer of 1949 saw several heatwaves, with temperatures soaring into the high 80s Fahrenheit, making it one of the hottest years on record in Ireland.

This was a mere four years after the cessation of heavy artillery fire on the Shanoon. Following five years of seclusion in their bunkers, people were revelling in their newfound freedom. The delightful weather was a welcome relief.

As depicted in the photo, there were queues for the quayside toilet even then, though they remained manageable, with no rationing in place for its use.

The front page of the Munster Express featured some local news for Dunmore residents. Mr. Ballintyne, the new owner of the Haven Hotel, previously owned by the Wall Morris family, was set to begin construction of a pitch and putt course on the hotel grounds.

Dinnie Lynch of Leperstown earned praise for rescuing a dog belonging to a Ballymacaw visitor; the pooch had become trapped in a cliff crevice. Dinnie put himself in considerable danger by bravely descending the cliff attached to a rope, ensuring the dog's safe return.

Miss Kathy Spencer from Brownstown sustained injuries to both knees following a bicycle accident at Harney’s corner. She required transport home in Willie Lawlor’s car but was on the road to recovery.

A midweek dance, hosted by the District Nurse Association, took place in the Haven, followed by a fundraising dance for Sailing Club members the following week.

It was heartening to witness the village residents enjoying themselves once more after the hardships of war. With nothing but blue skies ahead, Dunmore East looked toward a brighter future.

At the beginning of April in 1954, the final burning of the ‘Straw Judas’ occurred on the Island in Dunmore East. This had been a village tradition dating back to medieval times, involving the procession of Judas, a figure clad in a straw ensemble, from Killea church to the harbour. Along the route, villagers would pelt him with rotten fish and vegetables. Upon reaching the Island, the man would disrobe from the costume before the effigy was set ablaze.

Once the Straw Judas was in place and ready for burning, a group of nuns, dressed in veils and knee-length swimsuits, would dash from the convent, with the parish priest in pursuit. They would plunge into the water at the lifeboat house and swim towards the Island. The fastest of the swimming nuns would win the honour of lighting the torch and presenting it to the Judas Priest. Following a ceremony in Latin, the effigy would be set ablaze. Spectators would chant "Burn, Judas, burn!" until every last straw was consumed by the flames, and the remnants were swept away by the tide.

Reflecting on this old Easter tradition, I believe it should be revived in Dunmore East. It was a huge crowd-pleaser in the past and has the potential to captivate crowds once again. And what better day to hold it than on April 1st each year?

In the 1960s, Councillors Strand was a hotspot for holidaymakers, hailing from distant places like Coxtown, Leperstown, and even Gregaridda. Accessing the strand wasn't as straightforward back then as it is today. Visitors had to navigate a narrow pathway tangled with briars to reach the sand, but at least there were blackberries to nibble on along the way.

Sun seekers would sprawl out all day long, aiming for that coveted rock lobster tan. Calamine lotion served as the sunscreen of choice, though it was typically applied only after the inevitable sunburn set in.

People would bring their transistors along, those quaint radios of yesteryear, not "trans-sisters". Music would blare from them, or occasionally, on Sundays, the sound of hurling or football matches would fill the air. Once, I witnessed a group of young men with a portable record player, resembling a modern toaster. You'd slot in a 45-rpm record, like you’d put bread in the toaster, and it would play the hits of the day. I was thoroughly impressed, assuming these youths were the Beach Boys, only to discover in later years that one of them was Gerry the vegetable man. Gerry did play in a band as well as delivering vegetables, so my assumption wasn't entirely incorrect.

Swimming tubes and lilos were widely used, regardless of the wind's direction; caution seemed less prevalent in those days. After the swimming, the highlight of the day awaited: banana sandwiches, topped with an extra sprinkle of sand and washed down with a premixed summer drink, made from a special orange powder that came in a sachet.

Once the sun started to fade, it would be time to struggle back up the pathway, often lugging a bucket of jellyfish. Looking back, bringing jellyfish home was pretty futile; they were rather uneventful creatures, sitting at the bottom of your tin bucket looking up at you. They usually found their way back into the sea at Lawlor’s Strand.

It's fair to say that children had it made during the summers of the 1960s, and Councillors Strand was the place to be. And if the day in the sun wasn’t enough for you, there was always ‘Batman’ on the television, or some equally educational programme like ‘I Dream of Jeannie’ or ‘Get Smart’, when you got home. Life sure was good back then.